


The First Step Is The Longest

by Zira



Series: A Host of Snippets [6]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Alternate Universe, Altpower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24628690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zira/pseuds/Zira
Summary: Can you walk away from your problems when there is a tie that binds you in your home?
Series: A Host of Snippets [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573387
Comments: 33
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

The first thing Taylor does is… step. Out of the locker, into the bay. Landing bodily in the water, she shakes her head, clothing and hair heavy, but forceful kicks keep her head above it to keep from drowning. Now that she’s no longer stuck - unable to move, in a box, in… - she looks down, seeing how she seems ever so _slightly_ cleaner. 

Stepping again, she goes from salt water to standing in her own bathtub. Reaching over, she turns the water on, and climbs out of her clothing. It’s cold under her shower, but now that she’s no longer panicking _as_ bad, she can survive.

Maybe.

She tosses her clothing to the floor, ignoring how disgusting it is, and just… sits and shakes, water pouring over her. Clutching her legs to her, she puts her chin on her knees, staring at nothing. She’s not sure how long it is, but by the time she feels… stable enough to get up and dry off, the water is cool, but not quite cold. 

She finds herself sitting on her bed, fully dressed, and her journal of the various things the Trio have done in front of her, not yet filled out. She stares down at it, wondering why she’s not writing. It takes far more time than it should to realize that while her hand is moving, she doesn’t have a pen in her fingers.

Setting it down, she stands up, and searches for a pen, just as something - anything - to do, so she doesn’t start screaming. She finds herself standing in front of the mirror, and the person she sees staring back doesn’t even feel like her. Doesn’t feel like herself, doesn’t look like her, and when she moves her arm, the arm in the mirror may move, but her own perception of the arm is so disconnected it may as well not be happening.

Her eyes move slowly from the reflection to her hand then to the face in the mirror, repeating a few more times. Her hand moves, and she picks up the towel sitting there, rubbing it in her hair to dry it, almost futilely. She’s not sure what she’s doing, but she hears someone say, “I can’t stay here,” over and over. The mirror person’s mouth is moving, just in time to the voice. Over and over and over and-

Taylor takes a step.

When her foot lands on the ground, she’s in a place she’s only seen in pictures. It’s hot, muggy, and she’s … okay.

It’s okay.

Maybe.

But for now, she needs to go do something else, something better. And maybe that something is … oh. Whoops.

She touches her face, shaking her head. Time to get a mask. One of the ones for people with glasses. She checks her pockets, and she has her wallet. More than enough to get to somewhere that isn’t the old and defunct theme park her parents went to in Louisiana. 

A glance around shows the slowly rotting remains of the roller coaster she knows her parents kissed in front of, and slowly feels more and more creeped out. Yeah, this is not the place for her. But she can just take a step-

And place her foot back in her bathroom. It’s the only real room with no windows that are easy to see into, so it’s perfect for coming and going.

She grimaces at the wet and filthy clothing on the floor, but ignores it to go find some old masks. She knows she has some old frames she can modify into them and wear those.

\--

The mask is not a mask at all, but a pair of older ski goggles of her mother’s that fit over her glasses. They’re a bright and reflective yellow, that hide her face easily. While digging through the various things in the closet reveals a faded black newsboy cap, and an about as faded long coat of her father’s. The hat fits when she tucks up her hair, and the jacket is a little large on her, but works just fine as a costume with the benefit of being warm.. Standing in front of the full length mirror, she stares at herself with her outfit with a yellow belt around her waist, old black boots on her feet, and faded black jeans. 

She looks silly, but also not like she’s wearing something just anyone will wear. She’ll probably buy something specifically for her costume when she has money in whatever name she decides for being a cape. She doesn't want people to have easily traced ways of seeing that Taylor Hebert is buying it. Taylor stares blankly for a bit longer, then… takes a step.

Her foot crunches down on snow. Looking around, she can see her breath as she breathes. Tucking her hands in her pockets, she walks for a bit, going towards the sounds of what exactly she wants to see. The sounds fill the air, and she crests a hill. 

Below her, there’s a large amount of penguins, and off to the side, she can see some scientists doing whatever the hell it is scientists do in Antarctica. It’s summertime here, so it’s not dark and miserable. She takes a step, and she’s right behind them.

Leaning over, she asks, “What ‘cha doin’?”

One of them, a woman, says, “We’re studying the habits of Emperor Penguins. We need to get some weighed, if we can. The eggs are going to be hatching soon, so that won’t help us too much.”

“Cool,” she says, staring at the penguins who are carrying eggs between their feet. 

Another scientist snickers, as one of the others sighs and says, “It stopped being funny ages ago. How are you still hung up on this?”

“Cool,” the snickering scientist says, giggling harder.

Taylor hums, then says, “So, you guys have any food? Walked here from America, and boy are my legs tired.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be flew in, and your…” The talking scientist turns, trailing off at the sight of her. “Ah… How… how did you get here?”

“Walked,” she repeats, shrugging. “A little cold right now, actually. My hair’s kinda wet.” Drier since it’s been a while since the shower, but still a little wet. “I can head off, since I don’t want to get a cold or anything.”

“...Why are you here?”

“Penguins.”

“...Oh,” the scientist says faintly.

Another says, “You better not be thinking about building a base here, we deal with enough idiots who suddenly assume just because Antarctica is-”

“Nah,” she interrupts. “Had a… really shitty day, now I got powers. Wanted to see penguins.”

One of them curses, and walks over to her, putting out his hand. She cautiously shakes it, and he says, “Dr. Richardson. Let’s go sit down, and we can talk.”

“Okay?”

She follows him as he leads her from the other scientists and as he says, “So, you’re the first cape that’s shown up the _day_ of their trigger, so this will be a bit difficult for me, but you seem… lost.”

She shrugs, then realizes he can’t see her do it. “I dunno. Maybe?”

He sighs, and carefully steps back, putting a hand on her shoulder, “Come on, I’ll explain things. It’ll be nice to get you out of the wind, and a little warmer.”

“Explain what?”

“What a Trigger is, for one. After that? I’ll explain various options you have. Bet you think you should be a hero, right?”

“I dunno.” The idea of being a hero isn’t as appealing as it could be, not anymore. Constant attacks by those in power and her former friend leave a kind of sour taste in her mouth. Still, maybe she will, maybe not. No one can keep her contained. She doesn’t even really need to step, so she won’t be stuck in one place ever again. Stepping just feels like the right _word_ for what she’s doing, if not what she’s actually doing.

“Ah, a villain, huh?”

She shrugs, “Not really?”

He hums softly, “Well, how about I talk to you, and we figure things out?”

“Sure.”

They sit down in a tent, and he explains what a Trigger is. She just kind of nods, and finds herself explaining what all has been going on in her life. The loneliness, the want to just leave, the feeling of how nothing is helping, everything, including the shit going on in Brockton Bay. It isn’t like some dude in Antarctica is gonna know who the fuck she is, so whatever. She keeps it to first names only and doesn’t name her city, but that’s about it.

Eventually, Dr. Richardson says, “That sucks, kid. I wouldn’t want to be a hero, either, if you can’t trust any authority, and that you have fucking superpowered _Nazis_ in your city no one is getting rid of. When I was growing up, shit like that would have justified shotgun justice.”

“Yeah.”

He leans back in his chair, humming a little in thought, then says, “I’ll be honest, kid. I’d figure out what all you can do with your powers, then make a killing on them. You said you went from the United States to _here_ with your powers, right?” She hums an agreement, and he gestures at nothing, “That’s fucking expensive, even if all you’re doing is delivering packages that can fit in your pocket. More than that? Well, that’s even more pricey. Test what you can do.”

She tilts her head, “I can see if I can take you?”

“... alright.” He starts to stand up, “We can-”

“Stay seated.”

He sits back down, “If you’re sure.”

She stands up, and takes a step.

Dr. Richardson laughs next to her, still seated in his chair, as they end right next to the rest of his team. He claps his hands a few times, slow and impressed, “How many do you think you could take?”

She shrugs, “I’m not sure.”

He gathers the rest of his team together, and has her move them. She takes a step, and lands easily back where all the tents are. He asks her with a smile, “How’s that?”

Taylor tilts her head, “Not too much harder, really.” She can feel there is a limit, but isn’t sure exactly what that limit is. She should test it, though. Maybe research at some library, and figure things out. Not in Brockton Bay, of course, but she can go to other places in costume and find a library.

She just needs a picture to know where to go, is all. 

The other scientists murmur to each other, and Dr. Richardson quiets them down before turning back to her. “You want to spend some time with us, see if you’re able to move other things?”

She shrugs, “I dunno.”

He laughs, “How about you put us back, and go spend time figuring things out? You’re welcome to stay, but you probably want to just… go.”

She nods, “... I do. I just… I don’t want to stay in one place.” She won’t be stuck, won’t be forced to remain in place ever again.

“Could you take us back?”

She does so easily, just taking a step that places everyone back at the research area. “There you go.”

Dr. Richardson walks over to her, “You can come visit us whenever you want, kid. We should be around here for a while. Show up about once a week, and we’ll tell you when we’re heading back to the more permanent spots.”

Taylor nods, taking his hand to shake. “Thank you. You were… a lot of help.”

He gives her a crooked smile, “Got a niece about your age. If I didn’t help you, what kind of uncle would I be? A bad one, that’s what!” He barks out a laugh.

She giggles a little, joining him even if it isn’t much of a joke. It feels nice to laugh, and she wonders if she can keep smiling as time goes on. “We don’t want that,” she says weakly.

He chuckles, “Right. Now, you head home or someplace warmer. You may be in a coat, and this is about the warmest Antarctica will get, but you are thin as a rail. Go get something warm to drink, and stop shivering.”

She nods, “I'll do that.”

“Good,” he says kindly, waving to her as she moves away from him.

She waves back as she takes a step, arm going down as she lands in front of that pyramid in Las Vegas. It’s real big, that’s for sure. But now she’s no longer shivering, so that’s good. She isn’t sure she wants to _stay_ here, but at least it isn’t biting cold wind. 

She looks around, and walks into the building. She’s pretty sure it’s a hotel, and the person at the front desk won’t tell her to fuck off if she waits her turn and asks where the library is, or for a picture, maybe. If they are rude, she can go to another place. 

Waiting in line is boring, but acceptable, and when she gets there, she lets the lady go through her greeting before asking, “Could I see a picture of a library?”

The woman stares at her for a full second, then says, “I… I guess?” She turns to the computer, typing in quickly, and showing Taylor the monitor. “Here you are?”

Nodding, Taylor says, “Thanks. I hope you have a good day.”

“You, too.”

She walks back to the door, since it would probably be super rude to use her powers to leave. This _is_ a casino and a hotel, so they probably will get upset if she does. No telling where she is, and so on. 

But when she’s back on the sidewalk, she takes a step, and walks into the library. Heading to the desk, she talks to the librarian, who smiles and points out where the computers are, and explaining she only has an hour on them unless she has a library card. Since she doesn’t, she’ll live with that half hour.

She gets on PHO, making a new email to make a new account called Walkabout. She knows there are cape accounts, so may as well take advantage. She uses one tab for that, asking what prices are good for using powers to transport goods instantaneously, and another tab for just searching for images of various places to visit. The places all seem interesting, but she mostly focuses on the pricing in the Rogue boards. 

Especially since the prices are… eyebrow raising. The payment people will do just for items is massive, to get it to another person quickly, but transporting _people_ is where it is at. She can do just a few transports, and she will be making more money than most people see in their lives. That has her researching how to open a bank account in a cape identity. Not the easiest, but it _is_ doable. She needs to visit a PRT building, and get an ID, and then figure out what her address for mail will be, and it just… 

Taking a deep breath, Taylor leans back, stretches, and runs her hand through her hair, catching her hat with her other hand. Setting her hat in her lap, she twists her hair back in a bun, slamming a pencil from her pocket through it, and focuses on the computer. She does write down what she needs to do, so she can _do_ it, and also notes that she should buy a camera as soon as she can.

Unfortunately, it is much too soon when the half hour is up, so she signs out of everything, noting down the names on her paper, and gets up, tucking the paper on her inner jacket pocket. She puts her hat on, nodding to the nice librarian as she heads out, and when she’s outside, she takes a step.


	2. Let's Be Official

Taylor stares up at the Kansas City, Missouri PRT building. This place chosen specifically because it is the least thought of state, and she thinks it’s pretty funny that this Kansas City isn’t in Kansas. Her eyes narrow, then she nods firmly, walking in. The man at the front desk sits up when she comes through the door, but doesn’t say anything until she gets in front of him. He smiles, “Hello, welcome to the PRT. How may I help you?”

She smiles at him, “I’d like to have a cape ID made. The site said it costs twenty bucks, but that can be waived if I’m willing to do some testing?” She’s not gonna use her debit card, and they won’t take cash. She’s damn sure that’s in place because it’s either reveal her identity or have testing done to get a legal Cape ID. She’ll take the testing.

The man blinks at her, but says, “You must have traveled pretty far, judging by your accent.” She shrugs at him, not answering. “But would you maybe like to join the Wards, or-”

“Nope,” she pops the ‘p’ to make it a little annoying. “Make more money with my powers as a rogue. And to get a bank account, I need an ID. Easiest way to get an ID is to show up and talk to the PRT. Here I am.”

He taps on his keyboard, humming softly, “I can fit you in for testing in about half an hour, and the ID can be-”

“I am only doing testing for half an hour at most. All the documents I looked at said I can set a time limit, and I’m being reasonable.” The minimum is about ten minutes, but the more time she gives, the happier the PRT is to work with her.

He frowns, “Well, I’ll have you moved to a private room to fill out some forms, and set it up. Please be as complete as you can.”

She nods absently, “Alright.” She’s highly tempted to pop into the place, but that’s guessing in the dark, and why antagonize them? “Who’s taking me up?”

“They’ll be here briefly, please wait patiently.”

She nods, leaning her back on the desk, and looking at the gift shop. It has toys of heroes she doesn’t know, and various posters of the more famous heroes. She can even see a Miss Militia poster. Sure, it’s old, and of her as a Ward, but there she is, along with the other original Wards. Missing Mouse Protector, of course. Most are, so that’s not a surprise. She knows that the Brockton Bay gift shop has one poster with Mouse Protector in a Wards poster, and that’s because any city with an original Ward has permission for that.

She knows Emma used to have that poster, but isn't sure if the traitor still does. …She may need to make a visit just to see, and do something about it if it is. What the something she’ll do is up to internal musing, though! Rip it down? Paint it? Pour water on it? The possibilities are truly endless.

Knowing her luck, it won’t be in Emma’s room at all. She can’t imagine Emma enjoying hero media anymore. Bitch hates everything she once loved. Still, anything that might remind Emma of Taylor should get destroyed. …And other things that don’t, too. Makeup is expensive, and Emma doesn’t need that, surely?

… Maybe she _should_ be a villain. 

No, no. One thing for revenge is fine, but going out and doing more won’t be smart. She might fuck up Sophia’s stuff should she ever figure out where that bitch lives - same with Madison - but otherwise, it just isn’t worth it. Besides, isn’t the best revenge living well? 

A woman that has to be a local hero steps in front of her, smiling brightly, even as her vibrantly violet visor obscures her eyes, “Hello! I’m here to take you to a room to fill out the forms.” The woman extends her gloved hand, which is the same shade of purple as her visor, so Taylor shakes it easily. The rest of her costume is more subdued, but still purple. The woman is clearly popular, if how much of her merchandise in the gift shop is any indication,

Putting her hands in her pockets, Taylor straightens up, “Cool.”

Following the hero, Taylor doesn’t really pay much attention to where they walk, so is kinda surprised when they step into a stairwell. The hero says, “I’m sorry that we need to go up the steps, but the elevator is being repaired by Remix.”

“Ehhhh…” Taylor looks at the woman, stepping closer to peer up and down at where the central area of the stairwell is, clearly large enough to let a hero hop down or fly up the center. “What floor are we going to?”

“Oh, about four floors up. Don’t worry, we can take all the time that-” Taylor takes a step, bringing the hero with her, “you need….” The woman looks around, “Ah… I’ll, uh, make a note that you did this.”

Shrugging, Taylor says, “That’s fine. I’m sure I’d have that during the testing anyway. Lead on.”

“Right.” The hero looks at her as they walk, then finally says, “So… are you not local?”

“Nope.”

The woman slumps a little, “Oh. It explains why you aren't excited to see me. Typically, new Wards are happy to meet Lady Amethyst.”

She shrugs, “Sorry, I chose here because this Kansas City isn’t in Kansas.”

Lady Amethyst laughs, “So you’re from the other Kansas City, then?”

“Nope.”

“Wanna tell me where you’re from?”

“Not really, no.”

“Really? You sound like you’re from Boston, so that could be it. Am I right?”

“Nope,” she says easily, shrugging. It isn’t like Brockton Bay is famous. More infamous than anything. She doubts that someone here will really know it. If the hero guesses it, she’ll confirm it, though. She’s not an asshole.

Lady Amethyst keeps guessing various places, some clearly wrong, but Taylor gamefully lets her keep going. It doesn't hurt anyone to have it happen. It may or may not be to distract Taylor from where they’re walking, but it’s fine. When they get to the room, Lady Amethyst says, “Here you are! Please fill out the forms, and I’ll be right here to hand them off to who they need to go to!”

She nods, and heads in, sitting at the table and picking up the papers. Lady Amethyst sits near her cheerfully, taking out her phone as Taylor settles in to read through the paperwork. She doesn’t write anything on it, wary of the garbage the forum said might happen. She doesn’t even need to get very far when she sighs, realizing what this is. Still, she skims through it to the end. 

Pushing the papers to the hero, she says flatly, “I asked for the independent rogue paperwork, not the Wards paperwork.”

That gets a pout, “Are you sure, we’d love to have you for-”

She interrupts, politely but firmly, “I can just as easily go to a different headquarters and get the paperwork there. I don’t mind leaving.”

Lady Amethyst takes the form, and glances through it with a frown, “You didn’t even fill out our name? Surely you’d want-”

“I’m not writing on anything that could be thought of as joining the Wards.”

That gets a sad sigh, but a nod, “Okay, it’s clear you won’t join.” The woman stands up with a smile, “Let me get you that paperwork.” She walks out, and it is a very short time when she comes back, “Okay, this should be-” She flips through the papers, frown on her face, “No, this is…” The woman growls, dropping the paper on the table, “I’m getting you the _proper_ paperwork! Let me go to _my_ office and get it.” She walks out, and Taylor vaguely hears unintelligible yelling, but she isn’t curious enough to open the door and figure out what the hero is saying.

She is curious enough to take the paper from the table and look through it. It’s… independant hero paperwork. 

Well, it’s clear that Lady Amethyst accepts that she’s not going to be anything but a Rogue, so that’s a good sign. She ends up reading the forms as she waits, and has to shake her head when she finds some sneaky clauses about joining the Protectorate or the Wards in it. It isn’t actually joining, just that if the Independant got into trouble with the law, they’d be easily folded in to keep out of jail. Supposedly willingly on the hero’s count. It may require a separate signature, but if the person isn’t reading though it like they should, an unscrupulous person can easily say to sign on the marked lines, and not explain what is happening.

When the door opens, a masked man in a wine bottle blue suit, trench coat, and a wide brimmed hat walks in. Sitting across from her, he pushes her some paperwork, “Please fill this out. It has a Wards signup sheet in it, and I would like you to join, just for your safety.” He looks serious, and so very sad, like all he wants to do is reach out to her and reassure her that everything will be okay.

It’s frustrating that he’s so protective. She can look out for herself, thanks.

She sighs, reading through it, and it seems to be all on the level. The paper about the Wards is about two thirds in, and again, slightly hidden if a person doesn’t pay attention. She looks at the man, saying, “You know, I would need my parent’s signature for this one to even be valid, right?”

“If you could contact them, I’m certain that they would feel better.” The man says, looking at her, his exposed eyes looking concerned.

“Why are you pushing this so damned hard?”

“I’m a thinker, and when I saw you on the video in the cameras in the lobby, I knew you’ve just had your trigger today. We can get you the help you need.” the man leans forward, sounding pleading, “Please, I can't let another kid die. We’ll keep you _safe_. Just let us get hold of your parents, and-”

“Good luck with that, my mom’s dead,” she says bluntly, wondering if that will make him back off. Oh, the loss of her mother hurts, but her mother also was never one to trust the PRT if her running with Lustrum and the stories Taylor read are any indication. Amazing what all is just written in books in the basement.

He looks pained, “I'm genuinely sorry about that. What about your father? Or perhaps, a different guar -”

“I’mma be real with you, chief,” she says, pulling the Wards paperwork out, and more firmly looking through the actual Rogue’s forms. “I haven't seen my father in person in literal years.” About three. One year after her mother died, and he’s gone. “I’d make a joke about how he left to get some milk, and will be back at any moment, but it could be he shows up when I’m asleep and leaves before I get up. The bills are paid, I’m left money to pay for food and other necessities,” put into her own personal bank account, which is why she researches for the requirements for a cape account, “and I have no real clue how to get in contact with him. Good luck with that.” Oh, they could try contacting CPS, but since she’s in high school, she’s pretty much going to be ignored on that count. Especially since she’s cared for, has health insurance, and more than enough money to be safe.

If she needs an adult that badly, she knows she can call the Dockworkers’ Coalition, since they’re willing to show up and help. That’s why the steps are fine, and that the plumbing is all perfect. She even has new siding on the house because her father hires them randomly to fix the house. So she knows he keeps an eye on it. Somehow.

But the Coalition doesn’t have a way to contact her father other than through a lot of proxies, and even then they don’t think they’ve ever gotten in direct contact with him. She knows he has a new job, but what that job is she has no clue! It seems to make more than he used to, if her bank account is any indication. With her monthly stipend/allowance being about what a good paying job is, she doesn't have any real reason to think otherwise. 

Still, what she can make by being a Rogue, she can look at that as chump change. 

The man says, softly and kindly, “You don’t need to be alone.”

She very carefully doesn't laugh at him, and focuses on her paperwork. “Anyway, I changed the amount of time for testing to ten minutes, since you guys kept fucking with my paperwork.” She pushes the signed forms to him, standing up, “If you hadn’t been yanking me around, I’d be willing to go that half hour I first said. Hope your testers don’t want to string you up due to that.”

He sighs, taking the paper, saying, “Walkabout?” 

She nods, “Yup.” 

Matches her PHO handle, and that’s enough. Oh, she’s sure there’s another cape called that somewhere, but it isn’t like it matters too much if she has a duplicate. Some people have a great deal of other people using the same name as them. If she doesn't, more power to her. She’s just glad she isn’t basing her name on a weapon, though. So many Scythe and Blade names. 

He stands up, “Are you _sure_ you won’t be a Ward? We can keep you safe! Lady Amethyst and I won’t let you be hurt, and-”

“Buddy, I’m not gonna be a Ward. I’ll make more money like this.”

“...” He stares at her in silence, then his shoulders droop, “Okay. After the test, would you like to meet the Wards? We’ll tell them you aren't joining,” he hurriedly adds, “since you _aren’t_ ,” then returns to the careful tone he’s using to show he’s not pushing her, “and I think that they would like to meet someone around their age.”

“... I’ll see after the test,” she reluctantly says. “I also want to have my ID ready for me when I leave.”

He sighs, “I’ll do my best to hurry it along.” He opens the door, “The elevator should be usable, and we can get your picture taken for the ID before the testing. Let’s get- Augh!”

“Oof!” Lady Amethyst says, as she runs into the man, sending him to the floor as she remains standing solidly. “Whoa! What’s the-” She spots Taylor, “Oh. Sorry about the wait. I have the forms you wanted. I had to get them printed out fresh, since I’d forgotten about the fact that all of the underage forms come bundled with the Wards signup sheet, just in case.” 

Taylor crosses her arms, “I’ve already filled it out. He,” she waves at the man still on the floor, “gave them to me, and I filled out what I want.”

Lady Amethyst leans over, picking the man up easily, and setting him on his feet, “Come on, DT, you need to be more careful.”

He shakes his head, adjusting his hat so it lays better, “You’re the one who ran into _me_ , Amethyst.” He turns to Taylor, “Alright, let's head to the photobooth, get your picture taken, and _Lady Amethyst_ will arrange to have that ID of yours fast tracked.”

“What?” Amethyst says, looking confused.

“She wants it when she leaves,” he says dryly. “They’re more likely to listen to you. Go make sure it happens.”

She stands there silently, then glances over at Taylor, her mouth firming into a line, “Right.” Amethyst nods once, sounding resolved as she says, “I’ll do that. Will she be meeting the Wards?”

“I’d like her to.”

“I’ll arrange that, too. Take her for her photo and testing.” Before DT can answer, Lady Amethyst takes off down the hall, flying a foot off the ground to go faster.

Taylor stares after the woman, then says, “She can fly?”

DT barks a short laugh, “Alexandria package. Nice lady, and all around sweetheart.” He jerks his head, and his eyes crinkle to show he’s smiling, “Photo time, and we’ll use the elevator after. Our Tinker got it back in working order faster than we expected.”

She hums her agreement, and he leads her to a small room. He walks slowly to what looks like a box, muttering under his breath. He waves at the backdrop, and she gets in front of it easily. There’s a flash of light, and DT mutters more, turning to what is clearly a computer and types on the keyboard quickly for a man wearing gloves.

Soon enough, they’re back out, and DT leads her to the elevator, waving his hand at a panel to the side of it and he steps in. He jerks his head, clearly to get her to move. She follows easily, and absently looks at the inside of the elevator as they take it down. It seems nice enough? 

They exit easily enough, and he leads her to a door. DT pats it with a smile, “Testing time, let’s get it over and done with, alright?”

She nods easily, and mentally prepares herself for what is to come.


	3. Power Testing

DT opens the door, walking in and holding it for her. When inside, one of the people there says, “Cobalt! What is this about the _minimum_ time allowed?”

DT sighs, “Walkabout is… frustrated that we tried to get her to join the Wards. Do what you can.”

“Cobalt?” Taylor asks, head tilting.

He looks back at her, “Ah, yeah. I’m DT Cobalt. The Protectorate kind of has a color sort of theme right now. It may change later, but it’s easy enough.”

Weird, but whatever. Not her business. “I’ll be tested now,” she says to the man in the center of the room with a clipboard.

“You never filled out the general information sheet,” the man says, irritated, walking over to her. He gives her the clipboard, “Fill it out, and _then_ it is a ten minute test. You should have filled this out before, but I’m told your forms kept getting mixed up?”

“I’m a Rogue,” she informs him tartly.

“Yeah, yeah. Fill it out, let me read it. I need to finish setting up. Tell me when you’re done.”

She blinks as the man walks off muttering. Shrugging, she fills out general details. She can teleport, she needs to know what a place looks like, can take objects and people. It has questions more focused on tinkers than anything. She gets the impression she has a very abbreviated version of this form, since they know her basic power due to using it with Lady Amethyst.

She walks over to the man, who is setting up a screen, and gives it to him, “Here you go.”

He takes it, glancing through it. “Got a weight limit, kid?”

She shrugs, “Probably?”

“You need to be touching the people and objects?”

“No.”

“How far away can you be from what you’re teleporting?”

She shrugs again, “Dunno. Does it matter?”

“Since you’re teleporting _humans_? Yes, absolutely. Sometimes, testing is for the _Parahuman_ more than for our records. What if you’re not Manton limited, and can teleport just part of a person? Or if a person is half in and half out of your range, meaning you only take part of them without knowing you’re doing it? If you don’t know that, you could easily be sued and prosecuted. If it’s a murder, it is way worse.”

She grimaces, not liking that idea in the least. “Ah… right.”

The man sighs, “Anyway, I’m John. Let’s get this show on the road.”

He walks over to a table, picking up a tablet, and tapping on it. “Right, so can you teleport behind that screen?” She does so easily, and he asks, “Were you able to do that because you saw the room before?” 

“Yeah.”

He mutters something, sounding irritated, but when he talks, his voice is smooth and emotionless, “Please teleport into the room there.” He points to a door that is closed, no window showing through.

She shrugs, and does try. Genuinely. She even imagines what the door looks like from the other side to do it. Nothing. “I can’t.”

“Can’t-can’t, or-”

She interrupts, explaining the imagining, and adds, “I just don’t know what it looks like.”

He notes that down, and says, “Here is a description of the room. It is ten foot by ten foot, with steel shelving from floor to ceiling. The shelving is piled with testing equipment, and in the back there is a sink attached to the wall, not unlike one would find in a school. Above the sink is a mirror. Please try teleporting into it.”

She imagines what it looks like, and takes an actual physical step, thinking it may help. “Ah, nope. Nothing. I need to know what it looks like. Visually.”

He hands her a drawn picture, “Please teleport here.”

In the picture is an exact visual of what he’s described, and she steps to the place shown. In the room, there is a woman who straightens up, “Ah! The art works! How interesting!” She taps her ear, “She’s here, John. Want me to do the next one?” She nods, then looks at Taylor, “Okay, as you can see there,” she points to the mirror which shows a _different_ door that is open, “I want you to teleport past that, into the room.”

She takes a step, and gets in easily. Looking around, she hums softly, not sure what she’s supposed to do. 

Peeking out, she jerks a bit at seeing the woman, who smiles, “Great! Please teleport back to the testing room.”

She does easily, and a few seconds later, the woman walks out of the room, looking pleased. John looks at Taylor from where he’s leaning on the wall, “Please teleport to the center of this … mess.” He gestures at the room, a little negligently.

Looking down, Taylor is kind of surprised at how the floor suddenly has a thin layer of what might be sand on it. Honestly, it doesn’t exactly look like sand, more of a slightly sandy powder, but she easily steps right into the center of it. “Alright.”

He flicks something at her, and she only barely manages to catch it, “That’s a picture of one of our training fields. Transport as much of the silicate on the flooring to it as you can. Without you going there with it.”

She looks down at the picture - a grassy field - and then at the silicate. She attempts to do that, but ends up not being able to. “Ah… I can’t?”

He nods, “Now with you going.”

She glances around her, and steps, landing easily on a snow covered field, her boots sinking down into it. A man bundled in a coat, hat, and gloves says, “Huh.” He looks around, and taps his ear, “She’s here.” He hums softly, likely listening to what they’re saying. He looks at her, “Okay, that’s six point two meters or so of teleportation. Can you take _just_ the silica back with you?”

She frowns, “I’d likely take the snow with me?”

“Try just the silica. Maybe tell your power to filter out the snow?” He shrugs, “Just do your best. If you take some snow, then it’ll get cleaned up. Just back to the exact spot you left, thanks.”

She attempts to do that, but when she gets back, she does have a very small layer of snow all around her; it is covered in the silicate. John walks over, ignoring the crunch under his feet, “Very good. Follow me, please.”

She does so easily, glad for her boots. He leads her along, and they step into a different room, this one just filled with weights. “Okay, time to do this. You think you can just pick and choose what you bring? Such as taking less if you hit your weight limit, if you have one?”

“Maybe?” She has a sinking suspicion that they’re going to do this fast to get the most out of their time.

“Okay, I’m gonna step out, and you’re gonna take _all_ of the weights back to that field.” He leaves the room as she watches, then makes a ‘get on with it’ sort of gesture.

She sighs, but attempts to take as much as she can. She leaves some of it behind, and ends up leaning on the largest one when she lands in the field. The man there yelps in shock, clearly further away from her than before. He rushes over, “Wow! Okay, that’s great!” He pauses, staring at her, “You okay, Walkabout?”

She nods, shoulders drooping at how… difficult that is. “I don’t think I should take all this back.”

“Yeah, You’re looking kind of pale.” He cautiously reaches out to pat her shoulder, and when she doesn’t shove him away, he does it. Tapping his ear, he says, “She’s here and- Uh-huh? Ah. Okay.”

“We’re running real low on time, but there’s one last test before our time is up. Please return with as many of the weights as you can.”

She nods, feeling tired, but does as she’s asked. She takes a step, and some of the weights fall to the ground as she curls against a weight, panting. 

John walks over, “Ah… looks like we pushed you a fair amount.” He looks at her, actually seeming kind now, “We’d like to test and see if something partially in and out of your range will work. We have a rat and a mannequin for this test. Please come with me.”

She frowns unhappily, but does. She can see a spot marked on the now clean floor, and gets on it when directed. On the edge of her range is a mannequin just standing there, and a rat is in a tiny cage where it can’t move around. It’s distressing to see the poor thing struggle, unable to turn around and just stuck part way on her range. The only good thing is that the cage is made of wires, not solid.

“Where to?” she asks voice low and a little broken.

“Back to that field.”

She focuses to make sure they come, and takes a step. She lands in the field, feeling a lot like she’s trying to climb one step that just isn’t there, and accidentally stomping down hard on the landing to the second floor. She just stares blankly, not liking the feeling at all.

The man in the field is clearly talking to John, saying, “Nothing here! She looks a little surprised, but no real problems.” He looks at her, “Alright, head on back.”

“Ri-right.” 

She takes a step, and searches the floor for the rat, only for it and the mannequin to be missing. She moves to look at John, who’s holding a ball. He tosses it in the air, “Your testing time is up, but I’d like to try one more, if you’re willing.”

She wants to refuse, but honestly, she’s curious, “Yeah? But first, where’s the rat?”

He looks confused, “The rat? It’s back in the labs where it’s getting food and water.” She’s glad it’s no longer stuck. Seeing it like that, so soon after… It’s good the rat is out of there. John continues, unaware of her inner thoughts, “I’m going to throw this, and I’d like you to teleport with it just to another spot in the room.”

“Go ahead.” 

He throws it, and she takes a step with it. The instant she lands, it drops from the air to the ground. He nods, looking thoughtful, and walks over to her, “Okay, good to know. No inertial transfer. Could be used with bullets if you’re lucky.” He looks at his tablet, “And you can transport about four thousand, five hundred, and fifty-three kilograms.” At her blank stare, he rolls his eyes, “A bit over five tons.”

“Okay, cool.” Since a ton is two thousand pounds, she is suitably impressed. “Nice.”

He sighs, shaking his head. Going on, he says, “Since you don’t take things on the edge of your perimeter, living or otherwise, you’re safe to teleport with. Would you like to sign up to be a teleporter for Endbringers? You will be a great help.”

“I don’t have a cellphone.”

“If you sign up for one, we can give you a professional one for contact purposes. It should be able to get to you _anywhere_ on earth. It’s Dragontech.”

She stares at him for a few seconds, “Yes. Absolutely. I want that a lot.”

He smiles, looking pleased, “Wonderful! We’ll just tell the top brass and it will be arranged. Thank you for testing, perhaps come back another time so we can do more.” 

That’s a suggestion she’s actually going to consider. “I just might,” she says thoughtfully, and walks over to DT. “Alright, so… Wards?”

He nods, slouching as he walks, “Yup. Afterwards, we should have the information noted on the ID, since I heard you talking about being Endbringer transport.”

“I shouldn't be in any danger spots, so it’ll be fine.” She pauses, hating how she sounds a little plaintive, “Right?”

“Yeah, since you’re underage, we make sure of it. Wards aren’t allowed to join Endbringer fights unless they’re in the city being attacked.” He sounds a little bitter, “Personally, they shouldn’t be fighting anyway, and should be allowed to go into the shelters, but I’m not the one making that call.”

She cautiously moves closer and gingerly pats him on the back, “I’ll do my best to just stay out of the danger areas?” She can’t do much, and she barely knows the man, but he does seem to just… want underage heroes safe. It’s kind of annoying to her, but he’s an adult and actually seems to give a shit. That’s not a bad thing by any means.

He looks over at her, his eyes kind, “Good. You seem like you have a good head on your shoulders, Walkabout. I’d like you to keep it there.”

She smiles, shrugging. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good,” he repeats, and opens up the elevator, waving his hand at a glass square. At her tilted head, he chuckles, saying, “Biometric scanner. Used to use phones, but our new tinker upgraded and fixed things. We can still use phones, but this is simpler and way easier for us. Any phones get marked as an anomaly. At least, for us.” His voice hardens, “We used to have a problem with a villain who’d steal phones and attempt to break in. It’s no longer a problem.”

She’s not sure how to respond to the last part, so she says, “Cool. How’s the scanner work?”

He shrugs, “How should I know? I look like a tinker to you?” They get into the elevator, “Typically, we actually have the Wards in the Protectorate base, same with me, Lady Amethyst and the rest. But today is a tour day, and everyone’s in a bit of a tizzy.” He waves a gloved hand negligently, “The Wards are cooling their heels in the rooms for them, so they’re excited for a distraction. We let them know you’re not joining, but they’ll be happy to talk for a bit. We may end up shooing you out if you stay too long. Otherwise, feel free to stay until then.” He shoots her an amused look, “Don’t be surprised if the Wards try to convince you to stay during the tour. If you truly want to stay, you can, but it will make the ones coming to gawk expect you in the next PR event. The higher ups would rather you vamoose before that.”

She snorts, “I’ll be sure to leave, then. I’m just waiting for my ID to be finished.”

He shakes his head, but his voice is cheerful as he says, “We’ll have it sent up when it’s finished. Come on.” They step off the elevator, and he leads her to a door where he waves his hand in front of the scanner. “There’s an alarm in there so they can have time to mask up. They should be fully costumed already, but waiting is polite.” He pauses, his eyes serious as he says, “I know you can just teleport here at any moment you want, but I’m gonna ask you _not_ to do that.”

They’re putting a lot of trust in her, so she’s not gonna break that. Both DT Cobalt and Lady Amethyst are nice to her, and they do seem to care. She’s not happy about the push into the Wards, but they have her safety in mind, that much is clear. As such, she’s just as serious as she replies, “I won’t. Worst case scenario, I teleport into the lobby.” But if she’s hurt, she’s way more likely to go to a local hospital. Panacea shows up in the emergency room randomly.

He looks at her for a long moment, then relaxes with a nod, “Good.” He reaches for the doorknob, “Come on, let’s have you meet the Wards.”


	4. The Wards, A Cellphone, First Job

Walking in, Taylor is… not all that impressed. It looks like a room with a huge wall of windows on the other side of it, that just shows a hallway. The two Wards are lounging on a couch, looking over the back at her with clear interest. 

DT Cobalt pushes her lightly forward as he says, “Well, this is Walkabout. She’s a teleporter, and going to be a Rogue. We thought you might like to meet her as she waits for her ID to get finished.”

They wave, saying their hellos, and DT pushes her again, lightly. She gets the picture, and walks closer to them, “Hello.”

A girl pats a seat, “Come on, sit. I’m Rosewood, and that’s Miragemancer. Call me Rose.”

The other girl waves, “And just Mirage for me. I’m thinking of changing it when I get to the Protectorate, since they like to keep the color theme.”

Taylor glances behind her, but DT is gone already. She shrugs and takes a step so she can just flop into the seat that’s now behind her. Looking at them both, she asks, “So… I’m not really sure what to talk about?”

Rose laughs a bit, “We’re told you’re from out of town. Could you tell us about your home?”

She makes a face, “I don't like it there. That’s for damned sure. I’m glad my power lets me just leave, and I can go wherever I want. I won’t go back in that…” She trails off, shaking a bit. She’s never going to Winslow, and that’s that. “I’m not returning.”

Rose shares a look with Mirage, and carefully places a hand on Taylor’s, “If you want, you could come visit us when you’re not busy? I can give you my cell number, and so could Mirage.”

“I… I don’t have a cell right now. They said I could get one since I’m gonna be helping in Endbringer fights.”

Mirage gasps, “You’re gonna fight endbringers?”

She shakes her head, “No. I’m going to be transporting people to them, but not do it myself.”

The girl looks disappointed, her tophat askew on her head, “I want to fight Endbringers.”

Rose rolls her eyes, “Like we’re ever going to do that. We’re in _Missouri_. You’ve seen the meme.”

Taylor blinks in confusion, “What meme?”

That has Mirage scrambling for her phone, and tapping into it as she says, “I’ll show you! It’s pretty funny. So much, it actually came over from Aleph. It’s some weird band over there, but look!” Mirage shoves the phone into Taylor’s hand, and it shows a video.

Tapping it, it plays a car driving up to a ‘Welcome to Missouri!’ sign as the music sings out, “I am in misery~”

She smiles, “It’s pretty good.” She can see exactly why someone in Missouri likes it so much. It isn’t super great to her, but she does get it. Handing the phone back, she asks, “So, what do you do for fun?”

“Internet,” Mirage tells her.

While Rose says, “Video games, mainly.”

“Any of you do any fighting?”

They nod, “Sometimes. Not too often, but we do.” Rose sits up, moving to cross and tuck her legs under her, “Most of the time I just play with my plants if I don’t play video games. I got given a tinker workshop, but they said if a real wards tinker shows up, I might need to move it or remove it entirely. Kinda annoying, but it’s okay.”

Mirage sighs, “We have a villian who can see through my illusions. He has, like, super perception or something. We aren’t sure if he’s a thinker or just has amazing eyesight. His outfit is just covered in googly eyes, and he’s kind of a joke otherwise. I’m just… so irritated he knows how to get over on me, so I hate fighting him so much.”

Rose reaches over, patting Mirage, “At least we don’t need to fight him anymore.”

“But he was deemed the best one to go against as just us two. It feels unfair.”

Taylor settles a little further into her chair, and just… lets them talk around her. It feels… surprisingly nice and comforting, to be around people her age. Maybe she should visit more places with Wards. That could be nice.

She’ll see how it goes.

\--

There’s a knock on the door behind them, and Lady Amethyst walks in, “Ah, Walkabout. I hope you enjoyed your time meeting Rosewold and Miragemancer?”

Standing up, Taylor stretches, “Yeah. It’s nice.”

Amethyst hands her a small box, “Inside is your phone, and your ID. You may want to set the phone up before you leave. When you _do_ leave, please go out through the door. Even if it is teleporting from here to the lobby.”

“Gotcha. Can do.” Not hard, either. She’s fine with physically walking out if that’s what she’s being asked.

Lady Amethyst smiles, “Please feel free to come visit at some point. I’m sure the girls enjoyed having you visit.”

“We did!” both say excitedly, and reach to tug on Taylor’s coat. She moves closer to them, not arguing as they pull her back into the seat.

She looks back at Lady Amethyst, “I’ll be out before the tours begin.”

“Thank you.” 

“No problem, she says absently as she opens the box, and pulls out her brand new ID. Her picture looks… boring. Like a worse sort of full body school picture ID, since the background is just white. She guesses this is to show what she looks like. “I’m gonna need to get a better outfit once I get my job up and running.”

“I think you look _fine_ ,” Rose says cheerfully.

“Thanks.” She pulls out her phone, and it looks sleek and elegant. Turning it on, she looks in the box, which only has a charging cord and charging pad. She makes a mental note to buy a few more of those, just in case, and returns to the phone. 

It seems to only have a single contact in it, and that’s to a 1-800 hotline to contact Dragon’s tech support or order tinkertech. Rose and Mirage ooh and ah over it, pointing out various features. Rose even digs into the box with the charger to happily give her an instruction manual. They settle in to set it all up properly, Mirage and Rose explaining what they can, the manual filling in the rest. 

Soon enough, she looks at the time, getting up, “I should head out, You guys need to be ready for a tour, and-”

“Let us put our numbers in your phone first,” Mirage tells her matter of factly, adding them in without Taylor protesting. Once that’s done, both Wards wave goodbye to her, and she takes a step. She waves at the receptionist in the lobby, walking out the door, and takes another step.

She stands at the Abraham Lincoln Memorial, pulling out her phone, and takes a video with it, saying, “This is Walkabout, and here’s proof of my powers. I’m with our good buddy honest Abe,” she adjusts the camera a little to better show his face before focusing back on her, “in his memorial,” she takes a step, “and now I’m here in front of the Hollywood sign.” To demonstrate, she shows it a little better, making sure she’s in the shot. “Instantaneous travel, and I can be hired.” She thumbs it off, and leans on the sign to watch it. 

Looks good enough. Her hair is all tucked away, and what of her costume is showing, it all seems fine. She rewatches a few more times, paying attention to the background, which has some people pointing at her in the memorial, but nothing else otherwise. She even makes sure no one is making obscene gestures, and it looks like only small children pointing at her.

She signs onto her forum profile, and sends the video to the mods. She wants a verified cape account before anything. She’s just about to put the phone into sleep mode when she gets a text from a number her phone identifies as Dragon Support.

Weird, but maybe they want her to be ready for whenever the next Endbringer attack is. The text just says, ‘ _We’ve been informed you’re going to be doing transportation business, and have a DragonTech job for you. We will deposit the payment into your account._ ’

She stares at it, and replies, ‘ _Don’t have an account yet’_

It automatically capitalizes things, but she can see there’s not punctuation added at the end. Part of that annoys her, but also she will want to distance her civilian identity from this one. She leaves it be, just sending.

The reply is almost instant, ‘ _You have an account connected to your phone. If you wish to have a physical card, inform us of where to mail it, or come pick it up when we inform you it is ready._ ’

Not the answer she’s expecting, but that _does_ make it easier. So she sends back, ‘ _I’d like a card, and I’ll pick it up. What is the job you got for me? I may need a picture to know where to go. Otherwise just tell me what you need_.’ She has to use punctuation on the sentences, so maybe she’ll add them at the end anyway? She’s not sure.

‘ _We know your weight tolerances, and will pay for each trip needed. Please go here ASAP._ ’ then they send a picture of what looks like a kind of warehouse.

‘ _On my way_ ,’ she replies absently, even if she’s tempted not to even send it. People like being warned about suddenly having a person show up, so she does it out of self preservation, if anything. No need to get hit by some defence mechanism. She steps, walking into a warehouse that has Narwhal and Dragon in it. She sort of freezes, staring at them. She’s kind of amazed her mouth isn’t open. 

Narwhal towers over her, and not just because a glance at the woman’s feet shows her hovering lightly off the ground. Dragon also towers, but that’s because she is in power armor. Maybe? Taylor’s heard that Dragon is actually holed up in a room she never leaves, and operates the suits remotely, or so the rumors go. She knows the conspiracy theorists think Dragon is a group of a ton of thinkers and tinkers working together, but that’s dumb.

Some conspiracy theories are so stupid.

Even if she loves one of the dumbest there is. Which is that Idaho doesn’t exist. Mostly, she loves the potato argument, and the response of how the Idaho potato labeling is just the government from revealing that there’s a potato dimension. She needs to refind that gif of someone holding a burlap sack upside down and just an unending pile of potatoes falls out. That’s quality meme, right there.

… Now she wants to eat french fries. Maybe she’s go get some in Idaho, just for the irony of why she wants them.

She refocuses on the two heroes in front of her, blinking a little when Narwhal looks down at her, “Do you have a passport, young lady?”

“A what now?” She tugs out her ID, “I got this, and-”

Narwhal grabs it from Taylor’s hand, checking it over, then looks at Dragon, “Are you sure this is the best way? I can _fly_ your equipment.”

Dragon shakes her head, voice amused as she says, “Walkabout is going to be a lot of help, so don’t worry. I’m just happy that we have a new independant that’s willing to do this.” Dragon looks at Taylor, “Now, Walkabout, half your payment is already transferred into your account. Let me show you where everything needs to go, and then you take me and this first load to there.” Dragon pats a large box to show what load she means.

Taylor blinks as Dragon shows her an image of another building, this one looks like some sort of lab. “Can do. Just say when.” Narwhal gives her the ID back, and Taylor tucks it away.

Dragon looks at her as she does it, saying gently, “Now,” Taylor steps, “please… Ah. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she says easily. “Want me to keep going back and forth? Just tell me where you want it to land before sending me back.”

“Thank you. Can you move this to a different spot?” Dragon nods at the box.

“Just say where.”

A section is shown to her, and she moves it easily. Before she heads over, Dragon explains where the next goes. When she’s back to Narwhal the woman frowns at her, “This one next.” 

Taylor looks at the large box, but takes it and puts it where Dragon wants it. It goes on like this until they’re done, all the equipment where it is supposed to go. She ends with Narwhal reluctantly taking up her offer to teleport into the lab.

Dragon nods at her, “The last half of the payment and a bonus on top of that. You went above and beyond what I expected. Such things should be rewarded.” Dragon looks at her, and says, “The text I’m sending to your phone is about the correct pricing for your services. I know you went to Antarctica, so I’ve put in some around the world pricing. If you want to make life easier on yourself, hire someone to make a price calculator for your work.”

She looks at her phone, tapping to see the text. “Thank you,” her voice is surprisingly small, even to her ears. Looking up at Dragon, she asks softly, “Do you have any recommendations on who to hire?”

There’s a smile in Dragon’s voice, “I’ll send you a text of a few-”

Narwhal interrupts, sounding a little annoyed, but not as abrupt as she is when talking to Taylor, “Just send her the pricing calculator you already have. I know you like her work, and looking around, it’s clear that she made setting up way easier than me carrying it in.”

Dragon sighs, “I will send you a text of those who can help, Walkabout. I don’t have a calculator ready for you. I think it is best to hire one of them to do this, so that you can work on getting used to some bartering. It will also give you contacts with various other parahumans. It’s a feather in your cap to have me hire you, and when you set up a website, I’ll give you an official review.”

“Thank you, I’ll get to work on that website as soon as possible.” She starts to put her phone away, only to open it when she gets Dragon’s text. Noting what is there, she nods firmly. “And I’ll talk to the ones you suggest first.” She tucks her phone into her jacket’s inner pocket, “Thank you for this opportunity, Dragon,” she turns a little bowing slightly at the tall woman, “Narwhal.”

Narwhal nods at her once, and Dragon reaches over to pat Taylor lightly on her shoulder, saying, “I’m just happy that the job was made much easier with you. I’ve sent a warning to all the people who’s contact information I’ve given you, so don’t be surprised if they’re expecting you.”

She nods, “Thank you, again.”

Dragon laughs, “You’re welcome, Walkabout. How about you head out?”

“Can do,” she says with a lackadaisical salute, taking a step to land in front of a library. It’s in Brockton Bay, mostly since she wants to go to a place she’s used to, but also due to the first of the names on the list being Armsmaster. She needs to search for the others, and why not leech a little bit of wifi on her brand new phone?

She walks in, no one really looks as she makes her way to the chairs, and they pay no attention at all as she flops into one of the comfy chairs, and pulls out her phone. Her hand also lands on her pocket, and she has to make a mental note to drop off the charging things before she does much else after this. She doesn’t want to lose it, since it is stupid to waste money on replacements. Even if she has cash to burn, both in and out of costume. 

… She should buy food to celebrate, anyway. 

Okay, food first, and then she goes and sorts out the people in Dragon’s text. A cake would be amazing. A huge sheet cake to just eat on her own. …and then get very sick. Uh… maybe a smaller portion? 

She touches her pockets, mentally tabulating what she wants, and steps to one of her favorite places to shop. Comfort food and celebration food all at the same time.


	5. Cleaning A Mess, A Conversation, An Open Ending

Taylor sits at her kitchen table, eating one of the chocolate with cream cheese frosting cupcakes from the local grocery idly, and flips through her phone. From what she can tell, cross referencing with the internet, she has the official telephone number to Hero, personal numbers for Masamune and Armsmaster, and a ton of Ward Tinkers. The number for Hero is exclusively for texting him, and only a lucky few can ever get a response. 

Still, she knows Dragon sent the people on this list a notice about her. She writes a greeting, and sends her information about who she is and what she can to Hero. The greatest tinker there is. She’s a little tempted to ask him if he and Alexandria are dating, but that isn’t professional. What if Hero suddenly went up to her and asked if she’s dating … uh… a friend? She doesn’t have one, but if she did and Hero asks if her and the friend are dating, that’s rude. 

She won’t ask Hero if he’s dating anyone. She’s seen the various Hero capefic where he’s dating people, but if she’s honest, that’s kind of creepy? Shipping real people creeps her out, so no thanks. 

Anyway, onto the next people. She sends personalized greetings to Masamune and Armsmaster, since they’re adults, and it seems polite. While all the Wards get the same general greeting and that Dragon suggested she talk to them about maybe bartering her power to make a price calculator. She’s pretty sure she can make her own, but Dragon is right about her needing to make contacts with people. Besides, getting tinkertech seems like a fun thing, and this is probably cheaper than actually buying it.

She pulls out a second cupcake, eating it as various people respond. It’s kinda weird that Kid Win isn’t, but she assumes that’s due to the guy going to Arcadia. The lucky bastard. Armsmaster and Masamune both reply along the lines of them knowing about her due to Dragon, and if they need her service they will contact her. She replies along the lines of thanking them and saying she looks forward to working with them. 

She doubts Armsmaster will, since the man is known to be super into joining the Protectorate, since it works out so well for him, but honestly Taylor will not do that. At all.

Joining authority when all authority does is grind her down? Nope. No way, Jose. 

She ends up making an arrangement with a programming tinker Ward who goes by Averest. They want a chance to go visit a few other PRT Headquarters, figure out what Protectorate they want to join when they graduate out of the Wards. She sends apologies to those who don’t respond, and explain what’s going on, while also trying to leave it open to be contacted about something later.

But she lets the Ward arrange where they go, and what days. 

The rest of her day is free, so she feels fine putting the two cupcake wrappers in the trash. The last two go back in their container and into the breadbox. Patting it softly, she slips out of her jacket, and heads to her room, making sure to walk. She should start running, even if it seems kind of silly. But she wants to get buff, and part of that is running or something? 

That sounds like more effort than she wants to go through, but she could if she makes friends and part of socializing is working out. A friend would be a lot of fun. Maybe Averest will be her friend? 

She puts her costume away, shaking her head. She should get into the habit of just putting her costume away first thing. It isn’t very professional to have it just out and about, afterall.

She glances at the time, and it is a little after when school gets out now. She stretches a little and wrinkles her nose. She’s a little smelly, and very tired. Time to take a shower, and a nap. Afterwards, she’ll have some leftover soup.

She walks into the bathroom, shutting the door automatically, only for the _stench_ of the clothing on the floor make her gag. She takes a normal step backwards, and hits the door. She drops to her knees, still gagging, and stares at her nasty clothing. They seem all the worse, since the water is puddled around them, filthy and disgusting.

She doesn’t think, just taking a step, and she’s in the Antarctic agan, her disgusting clothing landing in the water while she kneels in the snow. She stares down at the water for a long time, and only really realizes what she’s doing when she shivers violently enough it wracks her whole body. 

Another step has her in the bathroom, and she fumbles for the water faucets yet again, the heat hitting her hard. So hard, that she finds herself blinking awake, sprawled in the bathtub, nose and mouth only barely not in the water. Sitting up painfully, she shivers again, rubbing her face. 

Looking down at herself, she groans, and gets up. Remove clothing, _then_ shower. That’s the proper order of things. She sighs, getting out of the bathtub and shower, and actually does that. With luck, she'll be better after this and her nap. 

Taylor can only hope.

\--

Blinking awake, she looks around in confusion, then frowns. “Wha-?” Standing up, she hurries to the phone in the hallway, and picks it up, “Hello?”

“Ah, Taylor, good to hear you.”

She frowns, squinting at the phone, “Who is this?”

“Ah…” there’s a long sigh, “I deserve that. Been a while, hasn’t it? Well, Taylor, it’s your father.”

She stares at the phone, “What the fuck?”

He sighs again, “Taylor, when you were a baby, you had a bear called Pookie. You had him until you were ten, and he finally fell apart, no amount of patching him up could save him. Your mother and I took you bear shopping. We finally settled on a doll instead. One of Battery, since she just joined the Protectorate in Brockton Bay.”

Taylor bites her lip, the memory coming to the forefront, painful in the broad painted strokes of memory. “Why haven't you contacted me before this?” she asks, voice small and hurt.

He says softly, “I know this is going to sound bad, but I got information about you skipping school and they found biohazardous things in your locker. People saw you walk into school, but you weren’t in class, what happened?”

She finds herself leaning on the wall, explaining about the locker. She doesn’t say anything about her power, just saying one of the other kids let her out after everyone else left. Best not to explain about what she can do. Not to the practical stranger that is her father.

When she’s done, she can hear typing on a keyboard, then her father says, “Very well. I’ll send the school a notice about a lawsuit I’ll be filing. The police will be taking care of this. I’ll make sure all of the girls pay. Including Emma.”

She stares blankly at the wall, “But her dad is-”

“It’s clear to me that the Barneses are not _either_ of our friends anymore, and haven’t been for a great deal of time. The fact that he’s a lawyer doesn’t matter in the least.” He pauses, and there’s the sound of the keyboard again, “Do you want me to bankrupt them?”

“You can do that?”

“Taylor, your monthly allowance is higher than a lot of families' monthly pay for a full time job. I can do it easily.” 

She closes her eyes, wondering if she can do this or not. “I… I don’t know if you should.”

“Well, make up your mind. I’ve already started the paperwork since you’re no longer in Winslow. It’s what I pulled up when you told me about the bullying. Now, do you want the girls and their families destitute?”

Thoughts whirl around her head. Their families didn’t do anything wrong. Emma and her were as close as sisters. Madison only does small bullying. Taylor never deserved anything they did to her. It’s been going on for years. The teachers always look away. It goes in her head to the sound of her father typing on a keyboard, silent and patient. Finally, she says, “Make them pay. Make them all pay. Take the bullies down and everyone who looked away regret it. Make it so that none of the teachers other than my computer teacher Mrs. Knott can ever get a job as a teacher or around kids ever again.”

She may be rid of them forever, but out of sight and out of mind doesn't count when she can run into them anywhere at all.

“All the teachers but Mrs. Knott,” he says softly, clearly noting it down, “Should I include the cleaning staff?”

“I think the stuff had been rotting in there the entire winter break, so yes. They should have caught it, first thing.” She’s going to be vindictive. She wants them gone, and gone forever. She hates them, if she’s honest. “ _Ruin_ them all,” she practically hisses.

“It will be done, Taylor. Now, your grades aren’t good enough for Arcadia, and we can’t get you in without a lot of arguments. What do you think of Immacula?” 

“Would they even take me, since my last school is now in a very debilitating lawsuit with me as the starting point?”

He hums, “That’s a very good point.” More keyboard keys being pressed, “Homeschool, then. As long as you pass the required tests, then it will be fine. If you want, you can call me and I’ll arrange tutors.”

“I… I don’t have your number?”

There’s a long pause, and then a muffled, “Fuck!” Like her father puts the phone to his chest to muffle the sound, but it is still loud enough for her to hear it anyway. Taylor kind of shifts from foot to foot uncomfortably for a few seconds before her father says, clearly, into the phone, “I’m deeply sorry for this, Taylor. I’d assumed you _did_ have it, and just weren’t talking to be because you were angry. Do you have a pen and paper?”

She looks at the pad and pencil next to the phone. Picking up the pencil, it seems sharp enough. “Yeah.” She jots the number down, then repeats it back to him.

“Okay, much better. Now for something that I probably should have said… a long time ago. You need a cell phone. I called the home phone a few times, and this is the first time I’ve gotten you. I’ll have one delivered to you so we can better keep in contact.”

She blinks, “Are… are you sure? You were so mad and-”

“It was an impulsive decision that ultimately just makes it harder for us to stay in contact. When the cell phone is delivered, please use it.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, I have work to do. I’ll contact you when we need to talk, but feel free to text me or anything you need anything you can't buy yourself out of the allowance.”

“I’ll do that,” she says softly.

“Oh, and Taylor?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Those three words bring warmth in a way hot showers don’t. Knowing her father does care is… it’s everything. “I love you, too.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” he says before hanging up. 

It feels… wonderful, to know that things will be getting fixed. It also means that she can do as much of her job and wander around all she wants. As long as she does the mandatory tests, she can be done with everything. 

Graduate _early_ , even.

The possibilities dance in her head, and she drops the handset into the cradle. Hurrying downstairs, she pulls out a cupcake, sets it on a plate, and digs out some old birthday candles in a box. Pulling one out, she places it on the cupcake, and lights it. Sitting down she rocks herself side to side, humming sort of tunelessly in quiet happiness. 

She blows out the candle, and slowly eats. It feels like happiness and knowing her father loves her enough to hurt the people hurting her. The glow of it warm and comforting in a way that being able to just go anywhere doesn’t fill a void. It just feels so nice and happy, she loves it so much.

\--

Less than an hour after she demolishes the cupcake, and is watching television, there’s a hard knock at the door. She opens the door, and is given a box that feels strangely light by a man who looks like he’s a former marine; broad and serious. He nods at her, “Here ya go, Miss Hebert. It’s that cellphone your father said he’d get ya.”

She smiles at him, “Thank you.” She bites her lower lip, then looks up at the man, “Did you see him? My father, I mean?”

“Nope. I got told to deliver it, so here ya are. Anything else?”

She shakes her head, feeling a little disappointed, but also understanding. She looks at the man, mustering a smile, “Thank you. I hope you have a good day.”

“You too, miss,” he says, nodding at her before turning around and walking down her sidewalk to a car on the street.

Going into the living room after closing the door, she opens the box. She blinks a little, since it is a larger, thinner, and prettier phone than the one for her work. Turning it on, it boots up slowly, clearly from a factory start, and it flashes the Dragontech logo, just like her work one. She pulls out her laptop, and searches for the various types of dragontech phones. Comparing them, the one for work is an older model, typically used for wards or independent heroes that Dragon works with; the one her father supplies is the very newest of the commercial phones, specifically made so it won’t need a tinker to look at it, but also almost impossible to break. 

She taps on the play button of a video demonstrating just how fancy it is, tucking her knees under her chin, wrists crossed as she holds her ankles. The man bends the phone in half, then half again, and it pops right back into shape. She blinks in surprise as it goes on to show the camera functions, the video, some editing software, and a ton of other things she severely doubts she’ll be using. It _is_ impressive, especially since she gets the impression she’ll just be using it to browse memes and shitpost on PHO. 

Actually, she’s more likely to shitpost on PHO with her work phone, since she will get more attention using her cape persona. She even has that all set up due to Rose and Mirage, so that’s happening. She tugs out her work phone to check on text messages. Pretty much nothing from the actual work part, but that’s fine.

Still, she carefully puts on the various protection things in the box for her new phone. It’s clear from the branding on the boxes for the screen protector and the phone case, that they’re Dragontech, so she knows they won’t make the already impressive protection any worse. And since she carefully puts them on, they work very well. She even tests it, bending the phone in half with them on, and they spring back perfectly.

She hums softly, deeply impressed. 

Closing her laptop, she tucks it away, and stands up. She’s… gonna fucking go to a zoo.

What zoo?

One where it’s warm, and she can just watch animals as she sits in the sun. She’ll grab a lighter jacket to replace her heavy one, and use that for warmer places. She’ll even head to the bank and pull out her own cash from her account and see about converting it to whatever local currency she needs. 

She wants… to see some lemurs and Galapagos tortoises or something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all I have of this for now. Next week, I'll be posting an omake to this in the fic. It is strictly noncanon, but will confirm some theories in the comments.
> 
> But after that, I'll be posting Transformers fic, so if you're not into that, I'm sorry, but it's what I got. Hope you all enjoyed.


	6. The Second Trigger That Never Was And Never Will Be; Noncanon Omake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omake and last thing I’m uploading for this! Pretty sure the reveal at the end will make some people upset, and others pleased at guessing it. 
> 
> Anyway, this is the second trigger that never was, and never will be.

The room around her is small. It’s so small, and Taylor feels like she’s suffocating. Hatchetface’s decapitated head is staring at her on the table next to her, rotting away slowly, and the scent seems to just be drifting to hit her all the more. The blood surrounds her, flies buzzing so terribly loudly. She yanks at her restraints, but they’re so, so tight.

She can’t take a single step; both physically, her legs stuck in place, and with her power, even dead, the power nullifier works to bind her. Her arms are also strapped to the table under her. All she can do is struggle and _sort of_ move her head. Mostly, she’s forced to stay in place, staring up at a just as disgusting ceiling. It feels like it is all pressing in and around her, the viscera covered ceiling pressing down as she shakes and just can’t _leave_.

There’s mocking laughter that may or may not be happening, and on her other side, the Siberian seems to leer at her; the naked woman seemingly unaffected by the remains of her former teammate. Bonesaw looks at her, giggling cheerfully, “I’ll need to fix it so she can’t escape again. Put it on her!”

“What?” she thinks she says, but it comes out more like, “Wra?” She stares up at Bonesaw, but gets no response. 

The Siberian picks up something out of Taylor’s sight, no matter how she struggles. She can see how Bonesaw is singing the Love Bug theme and picking various tools out of a pile, but as terrifying as that is, the inability to know what is going to happen is worse. Especially as there’s a scraping and clattering sound that is followed by the scent of rot getting somehow _worse_. A cloud of flies goes across her vision, some even landing on her face. At least, it feels like it, and she can feel things on her hands, under her costume, and-

She shrieks, jerking and feeling tears in her eyes as she imagines something chewing and nibbling and biting at her, just like- No! She’s not _there_!

Her eyes widen, and the Siberian leers down at her as something that reeks of rotten blood slams over her head. It possibly goes over her body, but she can’t tell, just that she can’t move! She’s stuck and can’t leave! She screams and attempts to move. There’s muffled laughter, and scraping, and movement. Something digs into her hair, pulling on it painfully, just like how it did when caught on the hooks. She screams, and there’s more laughter.

The laughter stops at the muffled sound of someone talking, and then there’s silence. She calls out, to the best of her ability, but it’s like her mouth is filled with cotton. The silence has her shaking, since now she’s certain she’s been left to die. She screams as much as she can, and the walls seem to close in on her more and more. A fly walks on her cheek, and she just wants to e̵͠s̢ca̧͘pe̡͡!͘͢

\-- 

Taylor blinks as she comes to, and suddenly she can… get out. She steps, and she’s standing up, the straps and things gone, Hatchetface staring at her with his rotting skin. She grabs him by the hair, and staggers out of the filthy shack full of guts, bones, and blood. She stares blankly at the trail of blood going away, and finds herself just wandering down it. It goes to a van, where she can see Bonesaw and Jack are with a man who doesn’t look at all panicked to be near them. Not even thinking about it… she’s just… suddenly next to them in a single step, and another step has the two murderers missing their heads, dropping down next to her feet. THe old man screams something, and suddenly the Siberian is next to him, with the man clearly directing her to kill. 

Taylor’s mind is a little blank as she takes a step, then another, the man’s head falling to the ground just as the Siberian pops. She tilts her head, then gathers the heads on the ground, stepping her way along the road. She only barely notices as she makes her way along, glass crunching under her feet as she lands with each step.

When she gets there, the PRT Headquarters look like a gutted shell, the glass clearly missing since Shatterbird’s song. Staring at the boarded up door, she blinks and stares at it. She’s not sure how long it is, but the doors open, and Miss Militia steps out, looking nervous. There is no telltale flash of green to betray her feelings, but it is very obvious in how the woman walks towards her, slow and cautious. “... Walkabout?”

Staring at the woman, Taylor rolls her shoulders, and puts a foot on top of Bonesaw’s head, resting her elbows on her knee, one hand still holding Hatchetface’s head, “Yeah?”

“I can’t help but notice you’ve…” Miss Militia’s eyes dart to the ground, “brought us several heads of the Slaughterhouse Nine.”

Taylor stares at Miss Militia quietly for a little bit, then looks down at where metal spidery legs are coming out of Bonesaw’s head, trying to escape. She takes a step, and she’s about a foot to the right, Bonesaw’s head now without any little legs. Looking at Miss Militia, she says slowly, “... Yeah.”

“Ah… Are you okay?”

Tilting her head, she turns the question around in her head. Thinking about it, and really examining it. She likes Miss Militia, doesn’t she? The woman is very honorable, and won’t hurt her, right? Yes, As such, the woman deserves… the truth? She hums softly, thinking it over, “... Yeah.” She’s much better than she was, and she won’t ever be unable to leave ever again. 

She’s free.

Miss Militia makes a sound like she’s hissing in a breath through her teeth, “I… see. Are you turning over these heads for the bounty?”

Is she? She came here because… Why did she come here? She just doesn't want to be where the stench of rot and blood is in her face in a tiny space. But she needs to know why she’s _here_ , not someplace else. She could go to her dad. That could work, but she…

She doesn’t want the heads. 

She drops Hatchetface, and kicks Bonesaw at Miss Militia, saying, “Yeah.”

“I’ll… make sure you get all of the bounty of these in your account.” The woman picks up Bonesaw with care, “I see you even took Bonesaw alive.”

She watches as Bonsaw’s head blinks and giggles at them. She guesses, even if it isn’t on purpose. “... Yeah.”

“That could bring _extra_ bounty. I’ll be sure you get it.” Miss Militia looks at the head of the unidentified man, “And … is he part of the Slaughterhouse Nine, too?”

She nods, “Yeah.”

“Who… who is he?”

She looks at Miss Militia, blinks slowly, then drawls, “Siberian. Projection.”

Miss Militia says, in a small voice, “... oh.” The woman manages to rally herself admirably, “Do you happen to know where the rest of the Nine are, Walkabout?”

She’s pretty sure Miss Militia wants her to continue to say, ‘Yeah,’ but that chain is already broken. “Nah.”

“Okay, thank you for bringing these as proof of your help in completing the kill orders. Would you like a guard, should the rest of the Nine come to avenge their fallen teammates?”

She stares kind of blankly at Miss Militia, who is holding Bonesaw with her left arm, and attempting to hold the other three heads in her right hand all at once. It kind of works, since they all have fairly long hair, but it sure looks silly. Taylor moves her lips back and forth, biting on them a little before letting out a long and slightly toneless whistle. Finally, she says, “... Nah.”

“Are you sure? We could have Dauntless join you. He’d keep you safe, and-”

“Nah,” she cuts the pitch down easily. “Gonna… gonna go to my dad.”

“Your… dad? I thought you didn’t know where he was, according to your file.”

“Nah. I know. He lives…” She hums softly, stretching a bit, “I know where he is. Not home. Nope. Not…” She nods a little, staring up at the air blankly, “Not home.” She blinks slowly as a shiny figure crosses her vision in the air, “Huh.”

“You!” comes a shriek that seems to vibrate through the world around them, resonating mostly in the broken glass at their feet. “You’re the one who killed him!” Another shriek, and Taylor’s already half broken ski goggles break more. 

Staring up the clearly enraged Shatterbird, Taylor takes a step. Next to the woman, she takes another step, and lands lightly on the ground, the woman’s head falling next to her with a heavy sort of thud. Further away, the woman’s body drops to the ground, glass flying as it does so. 

Looking at Miss Militia, Taylor kicks the head to the woman, “Here. I’m gonna… go to my dad. Yeah. gimme the bounty, I’ll check my account later.”

She sees the hero open her mouth to say something, but she takes a step, and lands where she knows so very intimately. She walks over, and lays on her father’s desk, “Daddy,” her voice cracks, “help me….”

Coil puts his hand on his daughter’s back, and says softly, “Oh, Taylor. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She wraps her arms around his thin body, and starts to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that is all there is of First Step. Now everyone knows what it was working up to, but I was originally planning on having an interlude with Danny eventually, anyway. The point wasn’t, “Oh no! He’s Coil!” the point is more that Danny needs to reconnect with his DAUGHTER. The entirety of the fic is Taylor reconnecting to humanity and realizing that not everyone is like Winslow, and her father does care and love her. 
> 
> Also, this is an AltPower Coil, so his power isn't splitting timelines. If I get back to this, I’ll see how it goes.


End file.
